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AN ADDRESS, 



DELIVERED BEFORE THE 



I DEMOSTHENIAN AND PHI KAPPA SOCIETIES 



lumVERSITY OF GEOHCtIAJ 



IN THE COLLEGE CHAPEL, ATHENS, 



ON THURSDAY, AUGUST 5, 1847. 



^^ 



BY THE HON. JOSEPH R. INGERSOLL, \* 

OF PENNSYLVANIA. \ 



-0N(3^- 



^n 



CHRISTY & LAMPKIN, PRINTERS. 

1847. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



j Phi Kappa Hall, August 5th, 1847. | 

1 On motion of Hon. A. H. Stephens, | 

< Resolved, That the thanks of this Society be tendered to our honorary | 
I brother, the Hon. Joseph R. Ingersoll, for the very able, appropriate, chaste, \ 
\ elegant and eloquent Address this day delivered by him, and that a copy of | 
I the same be requested for publication, i 



< Hon. Joseph R. Ingersoll; 

I Sir— In accordance with the above resolution of the Phi Kappa \ 

\ Sciciety, we as a Committee, tender to you the thanks of said Society for the | 
I able and classic Address this day delivered before the Literary Societies, and ] 
J earnestly solicit a copy for publication. Accept from the Society we repre- > 
I sent its warmest thanks, and from ourselves individually the deepest respect. 
THOS. JEFFERSON EPPES, ) \ 

BEVERLY A. THORNTON, } Committee. \ 
EDWARD W. LaROACHE, S 



Athens, August 5th, 1847. \ 
-, Gentlemen — It would scarcely be possible for me to express my sense of j 

I the honor you have done me in kindly listening to an imperfect Address, and ! 
in bestowing upon it terms of commendation. These last have their source \ 
in your own kindness and generosity. I will not question the sincerity j 
which has dictated them, or hesitate to comply with a request so flattering 
\ and agreeable. Believe me to be, \ 

\ Faithfully yours, | 

"j. R. INGERSOLL. | 
\ Messrs. Thomas Jefferson Eppes, \ 

Beverly A. Thornton, 

Edward W. LaRoache, ) 

Commltlse of the Pld Kappa Society. \ 



ADDRESS 



\ It is with unfeigned pleasure that I exchange congratula- l 
\ tions with yourselves, gentlemen, and with all this assera- 
^ bly, upon our being in the midst of Athens. Not personal- 
I ly in that Athens which was the light of Greece, but in an- 
I other classic residence, adopting for wise purposes of emu- 
\ lation and resemblance, a name which was once a signal 

for every thing brilliant in arts, glorious in arms, successful 
\ in commerce, accomplished in manners, and distinguished \ 
\ in wit, wisdom and elegant literature. Egypt yielded her 
I supremacy to this, the bright inheritrix of her learning. Im- | 
I perial Rome, awakH^'from the rugged sway of military hab- ] 
\ it and authority, sent to the schools of Athenian philosophy \ 

her favorite sons, who brought back the elements of an Au- 
s gustan age. All the world did homage to the light which 
] shone from the temple of Minerva on the top of the Aero- | 
\ polls. The source of it has been long since extinguished ; 
I but the influences of it have not ceased to radiate during the > 

1 interval of two thousand years. An example sufficieritly 
obvious for distinct examination, connected with much that 
might be unbecoming, or ill adapted to the uses ot modern 
I times, affords an interesting study for the scholar, who, \ 
\ without the evils, may profit by many advantages in the 
; history of the ancient metropolis. Works of art remain in I 
\ imperishable grandeur for the instruction and admiration of | 
; mankind. Pagan religion and false philosophy have pass- \ 
I ed away. Objects which served in their proud supremacy 
: to adorn them, still present in venerable ruin monuments | 



I 6 ADDRESS. 

I of exploded error, and models of taste and elegance. A | 

people, among whom deities were to be found scarcely less 
I readily than men — who, having exhausted the fabulous kal- 
I endar of the skies, erected an altar to the unknown God — | 
I have given to a remote posterity the mutilated but beautiful 
I memorials of a delusive worship for the uses of a better faith. 
> All that exists of ancient Athens may be made profitable to 
modern times. Temples and statues in their fine propor- 
tions, which appear to have approached perfection in the | 
\ degree that they were illustrations of an empty idolatry, i 
5 are discernible to the curious on their native soil, and rise 
in majestic imitation in almost every part of the civilized 
world. A " musical and prolific language," defying the 
"tooth of time and razure of oblivion," serves to instruct 
and embellish now, as when it was faithfully studied and 
I affectionately taught by Cato in his declining years. A 
name, celebrated beyond the reach of envy, the adoption of 
which at this chosen seat of learning, is a pledge of glorious 
ambition and a companion of success,i o iii p ii l »will not cease to be 
! cherished as another word for taste and elegance. Above 
all, a refinement which is the cement of civil society and 
the brilliant coloring of solid and substantial worth, has 
I been transmitted with an expansiveness scarcely less than 
I that of the air we breathe. It may be cultivated without 
presumption. If the acquisition in all its original bright- 
; ness be difficult and distant, honor and advantage are ac- 
quired in cherishing the inspiring hope that it may be at- 
: tained. An accomplished modern traveller has dwelt upon 
i the effects of a daily opportunity of studying the noble 
1 specimens of art, which adorned the metropolis of Ionia, 
and tended to confer a taste, above all others, exquisite, | 
upon the inhabitants, "and a grace of language, movement, 
dress and manners, in which they had an acknowledged 1 
superiority over all the people in the world." 

These are the rich bequests of your parent city; her tem- 



m- 



\ pies are not reconstructed ; their ruins are not planted here j 
I — here, however, her brightest ornament and richest pos- | 
\ session — the opportunity and the existence of education- 
I are revived in a prosperous and distinguished Seminary ot 
5 Learning — and in the ardent and successful promotion of | 
I the cause of knowledge, which that ancient capital has ir- 
^ recoverably lost. Daily advancements in a nevvherai-1 
\ sphere, render less and less affecting the lament of modern \ 

< poetr}'-, that, 

< "Where Athens, and where Sparta stood, \ 
\ There is amoral desert now." \ 

\ An Athenian excellence, at once attainable and indis- 
pensable, which all appreciate, and few can fail to desire, \ 
may not unprofitably form the subject of remark, during.the | 
brief moment, which, by your kind invitation, I shall occu- 
py of 3'-our time. Refinement, in its general acceptance, is i 
supposed to apply to the outward rather than the inner 
man, and therefore, less to merit consideration and encour- 
I agement, than some of those loftier principles of thought | 
5 and action, which influence directly, the exercises of the 
heart and soul. Were this exactly true, it might vary the 
arguments in favor of its cultivation, but could scarcely di- 
\ minish the inducements to cherish it. Intercourse between 
] the immortal part of man — his essential spirit and eternal \ 
\ mind — and all that the world contains of material existence, 
I is through the agency of the body. Perishable indeed, and 
I comparatively brief in individual continuance, it reaches, 
I by successive links of unceasing and visible connection, \ 
1 from the earliest periods of creation, at least, to the final 
j and fatal catastrophe when time shall be no longer. Al- ^ 
\ ways active and capable of good or evil — an organ in the 
\ performance of every action, 'which prepares our way and 
I marks our destiny for the great hereafter. As the right 
\ hand of thought, however heaven-born, mortals must de- ! 
pend on their corporeal frame alone, the vicegerent here \ 



i below, of an immortal spirit. In everything that concerns 
suffering and enjoyment, power, will, and duty, shame and | 
honor, wisdom and thought, the majesty of intellect and the 
might of science, this little limit of corporeal imbecility, ^ 
i this short-Jived and ever-varying gathering together of | 
dust, this casket merely of a priceless jewel of the skies, is 
all of human nature that can be directly influenced by hu- ^ 
I man means. Instinct is everywhere comparatively feeble; \ 
but all other instipct is super-human strength, compared 
with the instinct of mankind. The higher faculty which ^ 
our race peculiarly inherits, is bestowed along with suscep- 
tibilities of power and enjoyment of unknown extent, but \ 
they are dormant in the hands of unassisted natures That \ 
great faculty, reason itself, whatever maybe its latent pow- \ 
er, must remain forever helpless, without the aid of culti- \ 
vation. Infancy is not more feeble than uncultivated man- ^ 

\ hood : uncultivated manhood is not more vioorous than de- ^ 
\ . . . ^ 

\ crepit age. Refinement alone rescues it from native noth- > 

ingness, calls into active exercise every sense that is not | 
merely animal, warms the torpid sensibilities, lights up the 
\ fires of genius, unlocks the treasures of intelligence, gives \ 
\ energy and use to reason, and sets in motion the whole cor- 
poreal machine by which the intellect performs its func- \ 
I tions, and then directs its movements to a proper end. ^ 

\ An old poet has pronounced — \ 

I " This body but a sink of folly, 1 

The ground work and raised frame of woe and frailty, | 

The bond and bundle of corruption ; \ 

A walking sepulchre ; \ 

A glass of air broken with less than breath."' \ 

If his humiliating description be not a mere result ofj 
\ morbid temper, he may be right in devoting the body to so | 

miserable a destiny as he describes. He says accordingly, 
I that — ^ \ 

" Life is but a dark and stormy night 5 

f Of senseless dreams, terrors and broken sleeps ; i; 



ADDRESS. 9 I 

A tyranny, devising pains to plague, , \ 

And make man long in dying." I 

It were impious to suppose that such was the curse in- \ 
j flicted by a kind Providence, along with the gift of "this | 
I pleasing anxious being," unless it be furnished, in the 
I means of elevation and improvement, with a sufficient an- | 
tidote. Far different views are taken by the eye of Wis- i 
dom and Piety, when it contemplates this mould of clay, ; 
I as an essential part of that bright chain of worlds which is ; 
1 fastened to tlie throne of Omnipotence. The first thing, ; 
I says Pascal, in one of his powerful *' Thoughts,'' that pre- 
t sents itself to man when he contemplates himself, is his | 
I Body, a certain portion of matter that belongs to him. A j 
I demonstration is given by the eloquent writer of its slriking- 
I ]y different but not incompatible qualities— its dignity and | 
insignificanee— which in singular tendencies are seen vvher- \ 
I ever man is found and civilization is attained, either grov- i 
elling in the dust, or sending forth intellectual researches 
beyond the stars. This depository of ethereal power, is \ 
exhibited as a necessary ingredient in the lofty and full ma- 
jesty of nature. In her vast theatre, it is connected with 
that shining light, which, like an ever-living lamp, seems \ 
to light up the universe,— the earth which we inhabit being 
but a point in the vast circuit which this great star appa- i 
rently describes — and that seeming circuit of the sun, itself | 
a point compared with the immeasurable infinite of firma- \ 
ment beyond, bright with revolving stars. Let imagina- \ 
tion still dilate in unrestrained conception, and it will pro- \ 
duce atoms in comparison with the reality of things, and 
will vainly endeavor to trace at last, a boundless sphere, ^ 
I which, disdaining all circumference, finds its centre every \ 
I where* — even in this feeble body whose place and proper- i 
ties may teach at once humility and pride. We know that \ 



*This thought is given by Pascal, but is traced by his Commentator to an j 
earlier writer. ! 



\ 10 ADDRESS. 

I we are portions of a duration that is eternal. Why not of 
I space, that like eternity, knows no bounds? Both are, in 
I their infinitude,^ alike withheld from finite comprehension, 
I but both are, with all their difl5culties, within the scope of | 
\ that omnipotence, which, raising from the dust a living soul, 
\ and assigning ta its frame-work a part in the sublime mys- 
\ teries of nature, confers a dignity on ever}'- property, and 
renders it worthy of cultivation, assiduity, embellishment 
and care. 

Suggestions may be traced> if authority were viranting, to | 
i the days of the ancient philosophers, precisely applicable 
to our present purpose. One of the wisest of them regard- 
ed man as a being, born with the faculty of receiving sen'- | 
\ sations, of possessing ideas and of feeling pleasure and pain. 
] All that follows beyond these narrow endowments, is pro- 
I duced by objects which are incidental and fortuitous, de- | 
pending upon education, laws, government, religion, which 
act upon him and produce his intelligence, his opinions, his 
\ passions, his virtues and his vices. These influences, well | 
i directed and applied, constitute refinement, and may con- 
fer upon an existence, otherwise worthless, agreeable and | 
I exhili^rating enjoyment, and positive and supreme delight. 
j A doom which awaits the unenlightened children of mortal- \ 
I ity, is averted by accomplishments which elevate and | 
\ charm* They present a cup sparkling to the eye and de- j 
I licious to the taste, which brings with it no intoxication — | 
I food that gratifies the disciplined appetite in unceasing re- 
currence, but neither satiates nor cloys. 
I in the study of mere physical infirmity, every thing that 
bears even remotely upon it, is brought to its assistance or 
relief. Diseases are^ by the wise physician, guarded against 
> in their approach as carefully as their paroxysms are miti- | 
5 gated when they occur, and with greater prudence and hu- 
I manity. Balmy breezes of the spring and the pure atmos- | 
i phere of the cloud-capped mountain, are preferred to the 



I ADDRESS. 11 

languid heats of summer and the noisome vapors of a crowd- 
ed city. Tranquil enjoyment, in a happy home, or mode- 
rate excitement from foreign travel, in genial climates, in | 
the absence of direct appliances of the means of prevention i 
> or cure,will develop strength, ward offdiseases, arrest their in- | 
I cipient progress, andhappily confirm or re-establish health, | 
Idispensing with the application of artificial means of pre- | 
I vention or cure. These influences, acting alone, affect the \ 
I body onl}"-, and cease of themselves, with this limited though 
important agency. Similar offices are rendered to the so- 
\ cia-l system as kindly, and to the casual observer as imper- | 
I ceptibly, by the refinement to which your attention is invi- 
i ted, which seeks for its agency afar wider sphere. It aims 
1 to elevate the whole platformof civil society above the prob- | 
] able reach of social evil. If it cannot destroy the elements I 
i of vice, it surrounds the habitations of men with the visible 
j and agreeable inducements to the practice of virtue, and re- 
I conciles and leads them to its habitual exercise. It exhibits 
^ in daily intercourse, in all of the duties and enjoyments of | 
I life, in business and pleasure, in youth, maturity and age, 
1; practical and external proofs of the wisdom of the lessons : 
I taught by religion, science, morals, education and philoso- 
\ phy, while it scrupulously refrains from encroaching upon \ 
\ the limits, or interfering with the invaluable instructions of 
I the schools. It opens wide the door of various paths of | 
I taste and 'elegance, and renders them attractive by an at- | 
\ mosphere purified from every grosser vice and redolent I 
I with moral fragrance. 
^, Outward deportment is for the most part an index to the j 
sentiment which directs it. Sympathy is fairly to be in- 
ferred between mind and the organs by which its purposes 
are expressed. A conformity, if not absolutely invariable, 
I is about as frequent as the resemblance between feeling 
I and physiognomy, or between thought and the speech by | 
I which it purports to be expressed. Artifice may disguise \ 



i the truth, and hypocrisy may elude tbe most attentive scru- 
i tiny ; but the heart is read through tbe expressive language 
: of the eye — and sense and sensibility are indicated by 
i affability, notvi'ithstanding occasional exceptions presented 
; by designing falsehood and malignant knavery. Refine- 
I ment might, therefore, well direct a primary and more than 
i preparatory effort without abatement of dignity or wasting 
I attention, on trivial things to external manners, as an efficient 
i mean of general accomplishment; rather, perhaps, we 
I should say to manner— ^for the term is intended to embrace 
not merely a disciplined carriage of the limbs m the formal 
intercourse of society, but every thing that under the name 1 
ot conduct or deportment, is gwpot'human to intrmsic mer- 
it, and is employed in making merit the more available. It 1 
I comprehends, for examp]e, in language, however exalted 
; or however humble may be the occasion for its use, a clear 
I style and distinct and attractive, though unaffected utter- 
I ance ; in the developments of science the most profound, 
i simplicity, and even beauty of illustration, not less than 
depth of research; even in the exercise of charity, the 
\ greatest of christian virtues, cheerfulness and kindly bear- 
ing in the charitable giver, as well as value and fitnes^Jn^j 
\ the gift; in ordinary affairs of business and companion^m-^ 
tegrity made doubly welcome by a frank and courteous ad- ^ 
dress. It is a golden thread, easily woven into every text- | 
I ure, which it will scarcely fail to strengthen, and adorn. | 
I The late Sir Humphrey Davy was, by general acknowl- | 

1^ edgement unsurpassed in his day, as a natural philosopher, \ 
and he was especially distinguished for the practical utility | 
of his scientific discoveries. He was not less remarkable 
for the finished excellence of his writings. The^ombined 
power and performance together — a knowledge of what \ 
was to be done with a will to do — which was more than 
I seconded,it was led forward by facilities of communica- \ 
I tion that diminished greatly the difficulties of instruction. 



I ADDRESS. 

1 Practical illustrations are not wanting of the success of | 
I mere manner in the absence of particular merit. The cele- \ 
I brated Lord Chesterfield, as you are aware, degraded him- \ 
self by being an apologist for vices which were too preva- | 
lent in his day. But he had infinite tact and no inconside- 
rable talent, and he relates of himself a circumstance stri- \ 
kingly indicative of the different modes of attempting to ac- | 
complish the same object. He introduced into the House of | 
Lords the Bill to reform the Calender ; he had no knowledge | 
of the matter, but took a lesson in Astronomy, and commit- 
ted to memory some Astronomic terms ; he made his Ian- I 
guage handsome, and adorned his speech with suitable fig- | 
ures, and gave a history of Astronomy which was interest-. | 
ing and agreeable, while it had nothing on earth to do with | 
the subject before the House. From the elegance of his \ 
manner he gained fifty times more credit, and had infinite- | 
ly more effect in bringing about the result, than Lord Mac- | 
clesfield who was one of the first mathematicians of the age, 
who took no care to adorn his style and spoke inelegantly. 
To the orator before any tribunal, it is of the first impor- 
tance that he should win the attention and secure the good 
wishes of his audience as the surest avenue to the jud 
ment. A popular assembly at least, and perhaps a graver | 
convocation even in the forum, is in the way to be con- 
vinced when it is pleased. Even beauty, that high source | 
of attraction and inducement to love, although in the Ian- I 
guage of almost inspired poetry — 
^ " When unadorned, adorned the most/' 

i loses half its charms, if not united with the influence of | 
\ grace. It was the observation of a most remarkable wo- | 
man, whose personal fascinations did not fail with the pro- 
gress of time, '''that beauty without grace, was a hook with- 
\ out^ait." Compare, as may be done occasionally in soci- | 
I ety, two individuals of the hardier sex, alike in bodily pro- j 
portions, features and muscular development — theoneawk- | 



i ward, careless and blundering, the other radiant with dig- \ 
nity and gracefulness, and the value of external refinement \ 
will be practically shown. 

Let it not be supposed that the cultivation of manner,] 

I' which is earnestly advocated, belongs in its nature, or is 
intended in its application and use, for certain classes mere- | 
ly, for the educated and affluent, while it would overlook 
larger numbers, and, in a country like ours, not less impor- 
tant interests. No cottage is so lowly, no employment \ 
. so unpretending as to be more than others, a stranger to its \ 
benefits. If there be a difference in the value of genuine \ 
refinement — that which causes the heart to sympathise — 1 
according to the different situations in which it should ap- 
\ pear, a higher relative estimate may be placed upon it be- | 
neath the humble shelter of a straw-built shed, than in the \ 
I halls of opulence. Wealth may command a counterfeit re- | 
I semblance, may assume the studied air of affability, with- 
out the feeling it implies, and spread its floors with artificial 
I grace and elegance. There is no artifice in the refinement \ 
j of the poor. Their simple dwellings, decorated with the | 
I fragrant ornaments of nature, by the hand which gathers 

with daily toil its daily bread, and lighted up with smiles \ 
\ and innocence, are as radiant as the palaces of kings. The \ 
I same garlands of flowers, plucked from nature's bed, which 
in Eden our first parent wove for his all accomplished bride, | 

> The loveliest pair | 

I That ever since in love's embraces met : I 

I Adam, the goodliest man of men since born, ] 

\ His sons — the fairest of her daughters, Eve — i 

I may be gathered anew, as emblems of the simple elegance \ 

I of cottage life. Yet, " Solomon, in all his glory, was not ar- 

\ raye.d like one of these." And that bright token of an 

: unspotted spirit which shines most brightly in the cabin of 

I the poor, the opposite of the loathsome livery of want, dis- | 

i ease and crime, let cleanliness be there. It was a common \ 

\ saying of Sir Edward Coke, England's mirror of the law, \ 



ADDRESS. 15 

that the cleanliness of a man's garments, was calculated to 
remind him of keeping all clean within» Coarse fare is 
sweet when welcome crowns the board. Good will is al- 
ways graceful ; and the smile that plays around the lips of 
innocence, instinct with cheerfulness, is richer than a mon- 

I arch's favor. 

Next to the cultivation of manners, and scarcely less uni- 

\ versal in its sympathies, is the refinement of taste. A fac- 
ulty which appreciates the charms of nature, and knows \ 
how to distinguish merit from its false appearances in the 
works of art, is surely worth possessing. How useful is 

i this faculty, and how susceptible of cultivation, is obvious 
in every department ot mechanic industry. Splendid pro- 

j jductions of the pencil, or the no less magnificent creations 
of brass and marble, which, according to the great Italian 

I Master, want nothing but the power of speech, differ only 
in degree from the first etchings or outlines of proportion 
and design, the rude lesson of the manufacturer or the build- | 

I er, who aims at something useful, without a dream of or- | 

j nament. These are elements which expand into the clas- \ 
sic portico and towering dome. Ruthless as may be the 

I rage of revolution, and fierce its love of plunder and ten- \ 
dency to carnage, these barbarous propensities have paused \ 

\ to appreciate and admire the excellence of taste. In the \ 
midst of the fury of revolutionary France, the sameindivid- \ 
ual who was characterized by Mr. Burke as the execrable 

I Carnot, infuses this refined policy into the official instruc- \ 
tion^addressed to Napoleon, who was then successfully { 
leading the invading armies of Italy. He informs the " cit- \ 
izen soldier" that the Executive Directory is persuaded that | 
he considers the glory of the fine arts as attached to that of \ 
the army which he commands. The time, says he, is | 
come when their reign must be transferred from Italy, | 
which owes to them, in a great measure, its wealth and | 
fame, to France, in order to establish and embellish that of | 



ADDRESS. 

I liberty. The National Museum must contain, according 
to his plundering but sagacious policy, the most celebrated | 
productions of all the arts, and must be enriched with those | 
vhich await the conquests of the armies of lialj. It was, 

I he declared, for that glorious campaign to repair the rav- \ 

I ages of Vandalism in the bosom of the Republic, and to 
combine with the splendor of military trophies, the charm k 

I of the beneficent and cheering arts. \ 

Close by the side of these seemingly inferior, but vital 

i incidents, is that which looks to the purification of principle. 

\ Municipal Law controls our actions by guarding with all \ 
the barriers which reason and experience can suggest, | 

: against encroachment on the conventional rights of others, j 

i Refinement, while it lends a powerful influence to confi^rr 
these obligations, respects their feelings too. It takes the 
shape and performs the offices of delicacy in its largest and \ 
most active sense. It chastens the first impulses of coarse- | 
ness and levity, which, unrestrained, lead to violence. It 
banishes scandal from the social circle, enlightens the inspi- \ 
rations of conscience by the agencj'- of elevated thought, | 
and diverts, by previous and pleasing occupancy, the erring j 
purpose from the breast. It awakens, by its own activity, 
•the better sensibilities of nature, and keeps them in con- | 
stant readiness to respond to the calls of duty which itren- | 
ders plain. It improves the moral sense, and guides its in- | 
stinc'tive impulses, in anticipation of the colder calcula- I 
tions and tardier infiuences of reason, until its tendencies \ 
become prompt, generous and just, and every movement 
restrained at once, and stimulated b}'' lofty motives, advan- 
ces with the motives which iaspire it, in practices of kind- \ 
ness towards benevolent and useful ends. What a Para- 1 

disc might man's residence become, if for, all remediable \ 
■IT ^ -r T r. /i/Via-^AtXZinx^ , \ 

ills, the certainty anaiacility ^ ^/f' ^f ^i p '• in tn n n . "' r r r substitu- I 

ted for the precarious and painful resort of cure, if punish- \ 

ment were made unnecessary by instinctive reluctance to- \ 



ADDRESS. 

i wards all that should incur it ; and if, instead of correcting, | 
chastising and cutting off the offender, you could preserve \ 
I him in innate preference, for what he feels to be pure and i 
I happy. " Keep," says the wise man, " thy heart with all i 
i dilligence, for out of it are the issues of lite." Religion be- 
: ing a lamp which lights our feet — and law, the right arm 
I which avenges wrong, refinement is the purifying principle 
which prepares the mind to receive and sustain the influ- 
ences of the one, and obviates the necessity of invoking the 
\ terrors of the other. 

I A refinement which cannot justly be -overlooked, in the | 

presence of an enlightened assembly, is that of language. | 

\ Intercourse must cease without this universal medium. — | 

I Written or oral discourse is no less indispensable to the \ 

\ existence of society, than food to the sustenance oi life. It 

enters mto all our actions; it can scarcely be estimated by 

too high a standard of elegance^or cultivatil(6f, with too am- \ 

\ bitious an effort to purify andembellish it. Upon the utter- | 

\ ance of it depends the result of pleasure or pain, interest or > 

i aversion. Upon the composition of it with skill and beau- \ 

I t}'', may be founded a diffusion of intelligence and delight, 

while its neglect or imperfection may involve nations in i 
\ barbarism, and prolong for ages, the reign of intellectual 
I daikness. It is not intended here to refer to a highly figu- 
I rative or metaphorical habit of speech or writing, which i 
; rather characterizes an uneducated people. Their language, 
I in the absence of abstractor artificial terms, partakes large- 
\ ly of the character and appearance of visible objects — be- I 
I comes hieroglyphic in its structure, and deals profusely in 
I external symbols and natural comparisons. All this is 
; akin to poetr}^ and may attend its loftiest flights. "While | 
) there is, in all true poetry, something infinitely above a 
\ mere combination of harmonious sounds — a sentiment sub- 
\ lime — finished laiiguage is always an ingredient. What ; 
1 has so much adorned and characterized an age as its poetic 



fame ? Look back through the annals of every nation that 

I has been distinguished by the various properties of great- 

I ness, and the eye will rest with its intensest interest on 

those periods which the historian has been delighted to des- 

I cribe as the days when language was pure, and when po- 

I ets were honored and renowned— the days of Pericles, of 

Augustus, of Elizabeth, of Louis XIV. You are familiar 

with the observation ofKennett, that it was a common say- 

I ing, that if all arts and sciences were lost, they might be 

I found igJ^ifgil^Apis knowledge and his verse, were not 

theJesffSSSS^W^ie absence of rhyme, which marked 

not his writings only, but those of all the classic poets.— 

The classic language of Rome, was coeval with Roman glo- 

I ry, which faded with the pollution of its vigorous and ex- 

I pressive dialect.. Rome ceased to be the Mistress of the 

world only when she forgot to speak the Latin tongue. 
\ "Obliti sunt Romfe loqui lingua Latina." 

History is not wanting in other proofs, equally authentic 
and memorable, of the association between the inspired ef- 
forts of poetry and national greatness, or even the essential 
spirit of liberty. Edward the I. ordered the "Welsh Bards 
to be murdered, and braved the penalty of— 
1 " Cambria's curse and Cambria's tears ;" 
as the most effectual method of extinguishing the national 
spirit. ^ 

It is scarcely necessary farther to scan the various minute | 
phases of refinement. As every thing that is profitable may | 
j be cultivated and improved, it would be difficult to name | 
I what is valuable in life that does not come within its capa- 
I cious range. To multiply and enlarge the sources of hap- | 
I piness, we have only to cherish the susceptibility for enjoy- 
ing them. Delight consists less in the object than the sense. | 
Colours are thrown away upon the blind. What are the | 
I perfumes of Arabia, to an imperfect perception of them? | 
I Ripen the sensibilities to a maturity that perceives and ap- ; 
I. ^ .^.^^ ^...„....--.-.-s 



I ADDRESS. 19 

J ^ , .„™~, .,_„,p., „_„__>„ 

I preciales — and all that is best around us, until then unseen 
\ or contemplated with indifference, grows into a medium of 
; pleasure. 

Things — " harder than the Egyptian marble," 
\ Are made — " malleable as the Ophir gold." ; 

1 The shining of the stars is as bright above the head of 
i the clown, who knows them only as the canopy of fair wea- 
i ther, as of the devout Astronomer, who draws from them, 
lessons of wisdom and feelings of estacy. Music, to the culti- 
vated ear, in its highest state, a new sense super added to 
the gifts of nature, gives out its thrilling notes in vain, to 
those who are unpractised to enjoy them. Refinement tra- 
I ces in the firmament, emblems of immortal glory, and reads 
daily and nightly lessons in the ever-moving concave which 
1 becomes sublime by its assistance. It adds verdure to the 

fields, and majesty to the towering forest, — 
I " Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 

\ Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." : 

i Then entering the social circle, it sees art and elegance | 

I combined with nature, comfort and grace united with inbred 

tendencies to enjoyment, even simplicity and fashion rec- J 

onciled and moving hand in hand together, and the sternest i 

I moralist convinced that virtue need not always frown. A 

I fabric is reared, solid as the unquarried marble rock, and 

\ brilliant as the polished shaft which lifts up the Corinthian 

I dome. In present vision it is full of beauty. The durable 

I effects which it secures, characterize/ succeeding times — .; 

\ " It leaves a trail of radiance, > 

\ As Flora fair, or Venus at her birth, | 

\ When from the Ocean, with unritled charm.^ ] 

The Virgin Goddess sprang." ! 

I In the progress of society, danger is often apprehended, | 
that refinement may be carried to excess. Evils may arise i 

1 from luxury, to which it has been supposed to lead. If this | 
be so, let it be remembered, that the not unwise precau- j 

\ tion, which is suggested by the fact, looks to a perversion i 

\ of things excellent in themselves. All the virtues lose their j 



so 

quality when they become intemperate. The whole econ- \ 
omy of human existence is founded upon the principle that 
extremes are mischievous, while merit consists in the de- | 
gree. Danger is never found in the highest state of culti- \ 
vation, unless when mixed with other influences, it forfeits its i. 
character,andretains whatisnolonger agenuinename. Eve- \ 
ry thing may be virtually lost by exaggerating efforts, which, \ 
according to an universal rule, are to be regulated and con- \ 
trolled. This principle of moderation and forbearance is \ 
as pervasive as the elements of science or art. It is the 
I ne quidnimis of philosophy, the golden mean of the moralist, \ 
I the estoppel of the lawyer, xhe juste milieu of the politician, \ 
I the modus in rebus of the Latin poet. There is a point in all 
pursuits, which wisdom readily discerns and discretion for- 
bears to pass. Corruption may invade the holiest shrine, 
which is not the less wortlw of attendant votaries for its { 
': mere liability to be abused. Vicious conditions of society 
: owe their vices, not to refinement, but to other, opposing 
I or collateral circumstances that have no necessary connec- 
i tion with it. The vices, even of great cities, are principally 
i among the unrefined. That gallant and beautiful country 
I which has been admired for centuries, as the abode of ele- 
1 gance and the polished arts, is condemned too as the abode 
i of vicious tendencies, because it abounds with counteract- 
ing properties that interfere with the natural effects of re- 
fined society. Henry IV. had frequently upon his lips an 
expression imputed to La Riviere, that the kingdom of 
': France resembled a druggists shop, where the most salu- 
; tary remedies and the most subtle poisons were found side 
i by side together, and a skilful artist only could distinguish 
I between them and duly administer the one and elude the 
: other. A nation almost constantly engaged in bloody con- 
tests, could scarcely be unalloyed with ingredients that are 
I antagonistic, to complete success in the pursuits of civilized 
I life.' Her revolutionary commotions seem to be tranquil- 



ADDRESS. 21 I 

I ized for the moment, by the persuasive influence of that 
wise Sovereign who rules her destinies in defiance of the 
\ oft raised dagger of the assassin. But during the last five 
centuries, she has been the partaker of five and thirty years 
of civil, and forty of religious wars. And of those with for- \ 
i eign nations she has carrie^i on seventy-six upon her own \ 
\ territory, and one hundred and seventy-six abroad, and du- 
ring these terrible struggles, has numbered no less than one 
hundred and eighty-four great battles. 

Dangers of another character, more anxiously interestmg 
than the fear of luxury,' would, in certain periods, have been 
I no less seriously apprehended. The march of improvement 
I had not then begun, which adopts the discoveries of to-day, 
: regardless how much they may cast into the shade the 
I proud attainments of yesterday. Printing is perhaps the 
greatest invention that ever was made. Another cycle of a 
: thousand years of darkness would have gone round, when 
\ mankind shook off the barbarism of the middle ages, if in- 
tellectual light had not been shed abroad by the mighty 
enginery of the press. Yet, a Grand Vizier ordered the 
; types and presses which were first brought to Constantino- 
ple, to be thrown into the sea, lest the introduction of them 
; should starve all the scribes, who earned a livelihood by 
I the tard}'- process of copying manuscripts. This was an in- 
cident of a moment, rendered memorable and spirit-stirring, 
I not only by the introduction of the art of Printing, but by 
: the discovery of the Western World, by the great achieve- 
ment of Martin Luther of the Reformation, and by the revi- 
val of Letters. An event not dissimilar,, had occurred long 
previously, in a classic age. The method of making mal- 
I leable glass, or rendering that brittle material ductile, was 
; known in ancient times, but the method of preparing it has 
i long since perished. A Roman Emperor, according to 
Pliny, fearing that gold and silver should lose their value, 
\ ordered the residence, workshop and tools of the ingenius 



m — 

\ 22 ADDRESS. 

artizan who first contrived it, to be destroyed, with a view 

I of cutting off the art. Another author describes the cir- 
cumstance somewhat more at large. Petronius relates that 

\ in the time of Tiberius, an artificer who made vessels of 
glass which, in their composition and fabric, were strong 
and durable as silver and gold, was introduced into the 
presence of the Emperor, and presented to him a vase of 
that description. He was favorably received, and to in- 
crease the admiration of the spectators, and farther to in- 

\ gratiate himself with his sovereign, he laid hold of the vase 
and threw it violently on the floor. He took it up again 
whole, but slightly dimpled by the blow, and immediately 
repaired it with a hammer which he carried in his bosom. 
While in expectation of a large reward for his ingenuity, 

I and of becoming the favored friend of Caesar, [se coelum 
Jovis tell-ere arbitratus est — says the author, sed secus ac- 
cidit,] he was asked vi^hether any other person was ac- 
quainted with this method of preparing glass. The Empe- 
ror being assured that the secret was confined to the artifi- 
cer alone, and believing that with him it would die, ordered 
his head to be cut off, lest the precious metals should be- 
come as base as the dirt we tread upon. 

I New and important discoveries have often, with motives 
less humane than those of the Vizier at Constantinople, and 
less polit^han those of Tiberias, been watched with sus- 
picion, dread and jealousy. A monk cotemporary with 
Gallileo, having discovered spots upon the sun, communi- 
cated his discovery to a brother monk, who told him that 
he had read Aristotle through with diligence, and did not 
see those spots mentioned there. He advised him, ihere- 
fore, not to divulge the secret, lest the people should think I 

I him mad. To listen too readily to the timid whisperings | 
of prejudice, would be to condemn the noblest faculties of 
Nature to a state of ignominious repose, and to forbid the 



ADDRESS. 

progress of improvement, against the natural tendencies 

and solemn duties of our race. It would — 

" Make the violent wheels of 
Time and fortune stand ; and great existence, 
The Maker's treasury, now not seem to be." 

Yet prejudice itself is not to be undervalued, furnishing, 
as it sometimes does, a salutary caution against the too ea- 
sy admission of mere novelty, without pausing to enquire 
into the merits of its claims. Prejudice often serves as a 
supplement to reason, and anticipates its decrees. Both of 
them may be fallacious under the best practicable direction, \ 
and reliance at last must be placed on enlightened experi- 
ence, as the nearest accessible guide to certainty and truth, 
equally wise in instilling knowledge ol the past, and in 
teaching, how much is j^^et to be acquired. The celebra- 
ted Raphael D'Urbino, it is said, was called on to decide a 
question of the antiquity of a statue of Bacchus' •which was | 
found at Rome. From its extreme beauty and perfection, 
he argued against the possibdity of its being the work of a 
modern artist, and pronounced from a very honest preju- 
dice that it was ancient, the production of Phydias or Pol- 
icletus. The truth was, that Michael Angelo had made and 
buried the Statue, and produced a missing finger which he 
had broken off and retained, to prove the master-piece a 
modern one, and himself its author. 

Hostility to improvement is rather a blind adherence to 
existing habits, than a reluctance to adopt new ones; an | 
undefined dread of losing what we have, rather than a fear \ 
of something else. It is the substitute of confidence in an \ 
imaginary present perfection — a supposed stable and sta- \ 
tionary condition of actual attainment, for the mutable and | 
progressive character of human affairs. They who indulge i 
in this slumbering acquiescence of an inactive and morbid | 
fancy, not only paralyze the becoming aspirations of duty 
and the natural tendencies of the human mind, but cut off 
the richest sources of human enjoyment. Miserable would \ 



24 ADDRESS. 

I be our condition, if bereft of the excitement of novelty, and \ 
\ the rich and variegated charms of hope. Take from life 
; these two leading causes of delight, and who would be wil- 
ling to live over again his now pleasing but ever anxious 
being? 

Innovation is dangerous only when refusing an alliance 
with existing and compatible benefits, and threatening to 
> overturn them. Discovery and improvement are for the 
most part safe, as long as they are content to be reconciled 
: with established principle. A dread of them in any event 
I and under any circumstances, by no means the prevaihng 
i error of the day, is an abuse growing out of a distorted ap- 
i prehension of their real character. It resembles, in some 
i of its aspects, with less malignant motives, the attack of 
i the Infidel, upon what he miscalls religion, because cruel 
sacrifices have occasionally stained the altars erected in its 
I name. Not religion, but its deadliest enemy, has some- 
times raised u neons ecrated banners, and falsely vouchmg 
: its authorit}^, has desolated nations with its crimes. Reli- 
gion binds, if not perverted, the human family in universal 
peace. To impute to it the production of wars and perse- 
cution, is a slander on its sacred name. Domestic affec- 
tion as well might be arraigned for the murder, by the first 
born Cain, or for the fratru?n irce long afterwards denounced 
in poetry. Religion did not kindle the fires of Baal or 
[ whet the insatiable appetite of Moloch. It was the reverse: 
i rendered such indeed by a corruption of the best things, | 
i with the tendency, when corrupted, to become the worst. \ 
I In like manner, effeminacy and its associated evils, are the 
; opposite of refinement, and its bane. That city of Luca- \ 
i nia, which at one period, boasted of its bold and vigorous > 
1 inhabitants, was not refined when they became effeminate : 
t when tbey banished the Cocks, lest they should disturb 
I their morning slumbers. Smindyrides was one of the citi- i 
I zens of this luxurious Sybaris, who complained that he had \ 



ADDRESS. 25 

passed a restless night because a single rose-leaf chanced 
to be folded under him, among the flowers which perfumed 
his bed. 

It would be the great moral discovery of the day, if a 
specific could be applied to social intercourse, which would 
banish selfishness in every shape, from the conduct and the 
heart. Good breeding in all its genuine attributes, is dis- 
interested and benevolent ; it perpetually aims, in practical 
exercise, to correct the feeling and the habit of self-indul- 
gence, and to cultivate enjoyment in the happiness of all 
around : its principle is the preference of others to our- 
selves. Were I at liberty to venture on the ground of the 
preacher, and point out a folly and a fault, which, short of 
heinous sins, should be especially avoided by all who wear 
the OS sublime — it would be inordinate vanity. Against at 
least the exhibition of it, and thus effectively against the 
existence too, in anything like oxcessi no'antidote is so sov- 
ereign as that which I am feebly endeavoring to recom- 
mend. A well bred person of either sex, cannot by any | 
possibility be offensively vain. So common is the failing, 
that its mischiefs become comparatively less striking and j 
are apt to pass as a positive sin, against good feeling, un- \ 
observed. Or perhaps, like colours in surrounding objects | 
to the jaundiced eye, its distinctive hue is lost amidst the 
glaring reflections from ourselves. Vanity defeats its own | 
ends, for in arrogating the privileges of others, one endan- 
gers the security of his own. It gazes through a distorted | 
medium, and disguises 'and discolors objects which are in | 
themselves sufficiently intelligible and plain. Self-satisfied | 
and self praised, it is a foe to improvement which, with I 
laudable ambition, seeks daily a more elevated standaid 
than that which it has attained. Losing sight of the max- [ 
im of tho Grecian philosopher which teaches us to know 
ourselves, it places before the eye a veil that denies to the | 
possessor an opportunity to distinguish between his own \ 



merits and defects. If accompanied by high qualities, it 
obscures them, and when modesty should be especially 
prized, because it would be the chief attainment — 'it be- 
comes absurd. Cardinal Richeliea was a statesman unsur- 
passed in the annals of bis country ;. yet he that changed 
the face af kingdoms, filled Europe with the renown of his 
negotiations and his victories, and shook empires to their 
centre, wasted his time in vainly seeking for a reputation 
as a writer of tragicomedies. With an ability and a posi- 
tion to make monarchs tremble, he awaited himself with 
fear the rising of the curtain and the decree of ^he 'parterre^ 
and if trivial and even m-orcenary applause greeted his so- 
licitude, he was- transported beyond himself. Sometimes 
vanity glories in d-ebased and vicious accomplishments. A 
Theban beauty, distinguished less for modesty than ambi- 
tion, is said to have proposed to rebuild the city walls 
which had been overthrown by Alexander, if she could at- 
tain by this inscription a bad eminence — "Alexander the 
Great destroyed these Walls, but the Courtezan Phryne 
raisd them up again." 

A tendency so unamiabie and impolitic, one so well cal- 
culated to estrange the friendly feelings, and self-condemned, 
to place the owner alone among his fellows ; a habit at 
once so ungenerous and unjust, is in its more distateful 
character, far more common with men than the other sex. 
If occasionally the lighter forms of self-esteem nestle in the 
corner of a female bosom, and whisper to a cumoean Sybil 
that she has in her decrepitude, stolen some of the personal 
attractions of a Calypso, and would not disgrace the circle 
of her nymphs, they are rarely of a character to offend or 
wound. Women are not unfrequently met with, who are 
devoid of vanity as a vice. A man vt^ho does not, in some 
parts of his character or portions of his conduct, display 
this reverse of the charity of the bible, which we are told, 
seeketh not its own, vaunteth not itself, coveteth not, is not 
puffed up — is of rare and remarkable occurrence. 



ADDRESS. 27 j 

There is a charm about liumility which might be envied | 
I if it could be perceived by the self-sufficient and the proud. 
Nothing in youth is so graceful as modesty, and few things \ 
are so wise. At all periods of life an Grnamenlil^and a car- 
dinal virtue, it is a crown of loveliness and beauty in the 
I young. After the great battle of Naseby, which decided 
the fortunes of the English Commonwealth, and sealed the 
I fate of Charles I. and his Monarchy, Cromwell, in his des- 
patches to the House of Commons, expressed his wish that 
I this action might beget humility in all who were concerned 
I in it. Whatever may have been his motive, he knew that 
I it was a passport to eminence. *' Lowliness," according to 
I another master of the hum.an passions, on a different stage, | 
"is young ambition's ladder." It was the Lacedemonian 
Pedaretus, who when omitted from the honor and the dis- 
I tinction of being chosen among the "three hundred," went 
I home rejoicing that there were three hundred in Sparta more 
honorable and worthy than himself. 

In a gallant ago, and in a country where gallantry is 
I conspicuous, an argument in favor of refinement could 
scarcely be required stronger, than its tendency to confirm | 
and elevate respect for the female character. At all times 
and every where the degree in which a people are remote 1 
I from barbarism, is measured by the prevalent consideration I 
I for the gentler sex. Menials, condemned to the humblest I 
I offices among savages, and scarcely companions among the | 
I coarse and low minded, in somewhat better conditions of 
i society, it is only with the refined that women enjoy the | 
I distinction and influence which nature designed for them, | 
I and has fitted them to possess. When Pericles, in the glo- 
I ry of Grecian elegance governed Athens, Aspasia, as has I 
I been said, governed Pericles, and educated Aicibiades. It | 
is not the remark of Montesquieu alone, among the writers | 
on legislation and government, that " the rank and power \ 
of women in a state, are a sure criterion of the natio.ial 



28 ADDRESS. 

taste and superiority." The cruel and barbarous times of | 
Henry VIII of England, when the fairest daughters of his i 
own and foreign realms, became slaves of his passion, and I 
victims of-hi« barbarous and cruel tyranny, were degrading 
to them. Statutes were passed in the 34th and 35th years 
of that Monarch's reign, (A. D. 1542-3,) forbiddingthe read- 
ing of the English translation of the New Testament, which 

I was a privilege reserved for the better sort, by "journey- 
men, mmimig men, prentices and women.'''' John Knox the 

\ great reformer, in the bloody and still barbarous reign, that 
with not much interval followed, (Philip and Mary, A. D., 
1564,) made his pubhcalion entitled, " First blast of the | 
trumpet against the monstrous regiment of women." In 
this he teaches that " the rule of woman was repugnant to 
Nature, a contumely to God, a thing most contrarious to his \ 
revealed will and approved ordinance, and finally the sub- 
version of all equity and justice." During the long and 
prosperous government of Elizabeth, every thing assumed | 
a new appearance. Art and literature reached their proper 
elevation. The old chronicle records that the ocean is not 

I more boundless than the number of men of note in her 1 

time. The Virgin Queen was herself replete with accom- | 

] plishments. She conversed in Latin, Greek, French, Ital- 
i . . . \ 

I ian, Dutch and Spanish. She was deeply versed in Mathe- \ 

matics, history and political affairs. The celebrated De | 

Thou, a distinguished French scholar and historian of her 
\ day, winds up an eulogium upon Queen Elizabeth, with an | 

enumeration of her great qualities, and ascribes to her those I 
I of the greatest of Kings. After her protestant accession, the 
j sturdy reformer who had denounced along with her papal 

sister, the whole famil}?- of womankind, felt constrained to 
; concede the individual excellence of the reigning female. 
< Still refusing to acknowledge the existence of high qualities 
I in the sex, he treated the Queen of the Reformation as a | 
I particular exception, and accounted for her merits as the 1 



m^ 



result of a special and miraculous interposition of Provi- 
dence. 

Superficial observation has sometimes led to a confoun- 
ding of refinement with fashion, and the one has according- 
ly been degraded and interfered with by the other. But ' 
the ideas and the words, are in their attributes and inter- j 
pretation sufficiently distinguishable. Fashion is a c 
price ; refinement a principle. One depends merely or ; 
mainly upon unreflecting imitation ; the other is guided by 
good feeling and good sense. That fluctuates with arbitra- 
ry will or accidental suggestion; this rests upon sound rea- i 
son. Narrow views and at the best, harmless amusement | 
occupy the cares of fashion j broad and extensive purposes \ 
and permanent results of general utility are the objects of 
refinement, which is diffusive, deep-rooted and enduring. ; 
The former regards appearances for their own sake, and 
as an independent ingredient of value. The latter esteems ; 
them no farther than as an indication of sense and sen- \ 
sibility, as the companions of qualities of the head and 
heart, which it aims to improve and exercise, and not as | 
an equivalent for them. 

Customs and habits may vary in their exhibitions: they 
may even manifest apparently opposite proofs of the same 
tendencies. These are merely conventional differences, or ; 
the result of accident or tradition. It is not a little remark- ; 
able that at this day, three fourths of the world recline at ; 
their meals in different postures on couches, or sit on the | 
ground. Women, when present at the banquets of classic 
Rome, were thought to be more decorously seated on 
chairs. But men used to recline or lie down. Statues of 
the gods were often seated on chairs or thrones. Yet Jupi- > 
ter was sometimes represented as lying at a banquet on a 
couch, with the attending goddesses sitting around him. 
Mortal festivals were distinguished for length and luxuri- 
ance. Nine, and sometimes more courses bespoke the 



so 

welcome of the guests and the munificence of the host, and 
I when the festive toast went round in honor of the favorite 
\ beauties of the day, a separate cup of flowing Falernian 

was quaffed to each letter of her name. 
J " Neevia, sex cyatliis, septem, justina bibatur." 

While in the advancement of society, models of excel- 
lence are to be studied, servile imitation is alilse inconsist- 
ent with a spirit of independence and with indiginous pe- 
culiarities, which must every where prevail. Institutions 
of government, and with them habits of intercourse are so 
I different with us from those of the countries of Europe, that 
a cultivation of somewhat different tastes becom^indispen- 
sable. Even the elegancies of one place or time are un- 
suited to another. A naturally expansive faculty finds for 
I Itself scope and tendency in whatever latitute it may flour- 
I ish, and it may safe!}'- be encouraged to adapt itself to the 
circumstances by which it is surrounded. Apelles is said 
to have left unfinished his statue of Venus, that something 
might be added by the imagination of the beholder, accord- 
I ing to his own peculiar taste. A successful and celebrated 
I Florentine sculptor, (Bartolini) upon hearing an American 

I traveller express his regret that there was no statuary in 
the United States, remarked that we were better without 
it, and frequently wished that he had been born an Ameri- 
can. There is nothing new, said he, under the sun, because 
people are always studying models instead of acting out i 
their veritable selves. He added that he had himself never ; 
\ been to Rome, and that he did not look even into the Du- 
I cal gallery of Florence where he lived, more than once a 

year. 
I It is most true that without individual effort and ambi- 
I tion, all the models of excellence and all the teachings of 
I precept and example will be of little avail. With them 
I scarcely any thing is unattainable, and fame and elevation 
I are within the reach of all. It is remarked by Kennett in 



his Antiquities, and the circumstance is referred to by ikm 
archbishop Tillotson, in his sermon on Education, that when 
the Roman historians describe an extraordinary man, it al- 
ways enters as an essential part into his character that he 
was incredibilij industria, diligentia singnlari. No one knows 
how much he is able to achieve, until he futs forth his 
strength, and none are excusable for the omission. The 
stimulating language of an old English poet addressed to 
such as are disposed to be sluggish or neglectful, may not, 
from the soundness of its advice and its classical illustra- 
tion be inappropriate here, — 

" Do thou but brin^ 
Light to the banquet Fortune sets before thee. 

If Themistocles 
Had lived obscured thus in the Athenian state, 
Xerxes had made both hiin and it, his slaves. 
If brave Camillus had lurked so in Rome, 
He had not five times been Dictator there, 
Nor four times triumphed. If Epaminondas 
(Who lived twice twenty years obscured in Thebes) 
Had lived so still, he had been still unnamed, 
And paid his country nor himself, their right : 
But putting forth his strength, he rescued both 
From imminent ruin ; and like burnished steel, 
After long use he shined; for as the light 
Not only serves to show, but render us 
Mutually profitable— so our lives 
In acts exemplary — not only win 
Ourselves good names, but do to others give 
Matter for virtu^^^^^'^s." 

Notwithstanding all the efforts of the wise, it is a melan- 
choly and too obvious truth that evil and suffering do not 
cease to be the companions of mortality. After arduous 
and seemingly successful struggles to elevate the standard 
of human nature, or at least to improve its practical opera- 
tions, a few bright spots only, are found scattered over the 
surface of the journey of human life. With these rare ex- 
ceptions, and sometimes in the midst of the brightest of 
them, earthly possession and prospect must continue to be 
sufficiently cheerless. Fontenelle, in his Dialogues of the 
dead, represents the great anatomist Harvey, as explaining, 



32 



ADDRESS. 



not without becoming pride, lo the shade of one of the an- | 
cient physicians, his discovery of the circulation of the 
blood. Erasistratus who did not dishonor his race as the | 
grandson of Aristotle, was familiar with the movement of 
the blood from the heart towards the extremities, while, 
with the rest of the world, he was ignorant of its return- | 
through the veins to the heart. A knowledge of that great 
organ as the fountain of pulsation, and the source of the af- 
fections had proved its value and utility, when it enabled 
him to detect the concealed love of Antiochus, the son of | 
the king of Syria, for Stratonice, which betrayed itself by i 
the agitated movement of his pulse, whenever, during his i 
otherwise inscrutable illness, she came into his presence. 
A discovery of the cause soon suggested a cure for the lin- i 
gering disease of the Prince, and he was restored to health, i 
Having advanced thus far in knoweldge of the human i 
frame, the ancient anatomist was at first astonished at the 
more perfect knowledge exhibited by the discovery of the i 
modern physiologist, of an entire circulation which was per- \ 
fectly new to bim.'" But he doubted the assurance of Dr. 
Harvey, as to its usefulness, when in looking around him, : 
he perceived that as many emigrants as ever continued to j 
flock to the regions of Tartarus. 

In reply to such discouraging suggestions, little more is 
necessary or proper than to say that the lot o-f humanity is | 
not, and for wise purposes, was not intentled to be perfect, 
either in wisdom or happiness. Yet large stores of conso- 
lation are found, and a higher value is given to human exis- 
tence, from the reflection that human miseries, although i 
many and inevitable, may certainly be diminished in num- 
ber and mitigated in severity, while objects o-f dignified 
pursuit and refined enjoyment, may as certainly be multi- 
plied and attained. 

It would have been particularly agreeable to me, if, in 
coincidence with the duty which I have thus been endeav- 



33 



I 



curing however imperfectly to perform, I could before taking | 
my seat, have addressed a few words, gentlemen of the 
Literary Societies, especially , to you. With enjoyments 
and advantages perpetually surrounding you, it may well 
occur that the magnitude of them is sometimes lost sight of, 
and that they cease to be appreciated as they deserve. You 
would not, I am sure, have imputed to me an abuse of the 
privilege which has been conferred upon me, if I had ait- 
tempted to recall some of them to your more vivid notice, 
with a view to their assiduous and profitable cultivation. 
An indisposition as unlooked for as inopportune, has placed 
me under its unwelcome influence, since reaching these 
bright regions, and has permitted me, not entirely with- 
out difficulty, to perform the part allotted to me. Having 
nearly exhausted ray own limited supply of strength, and 
your more liberal suppl}- of patience, I will not further try \ 
the endurance of either, than by briefly bringing to your \ 
view an illustration, of which I am reminded by a circum- 
stance just now alluded to, as having happened in a similar 
sphere. A legend of the earlier Spanish monarchy, as- 
cribes to the shade of one of its heroic kings, the prefer- 
ment of claims in behalf of his country, which, with a slight 
change of circumstances, might well become yourselves. 
Ferdinand/^ is said to have been received, after achieving ' 
his victories over the Infidels, into the nether regions of a \ 
better world. He there met St. lago, the tutelar. Saint of i 
Spain, and availed himself at once of the opportunity to so- \ 
licit favors for their common realm. The Saint was desi- \ 
rous of knowing how far they might be merited, and en- \ 
quired into the actual condition, and unassisted advantages 
which were enjoyed. A healthy and delightful climate was 
first put forward by the King, and the existence of it was 
: readily and cheerfully acknowledged. Next, the nutricious 
: and gladdening productions of a fertile soil — corn, and 
; wine, and oil were mentioned, not without a glow of patri- 



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l otic pride. Agreed, saia the saint, not grudgingly ; for na- 
{ ture herself would, if necessary, have stood up to vindicate 
j her boons. What else? Mankind, in its noblest forms! 
I replied the persevering and unexhausted royal shade : brave 
,^ and vigorous men, and beautiful and accomplished women ! 
I Assent could not be withheld from this transparent truth. 
\ Yet one more point of merit was called for by the too ex- 
s acting enquirer. With mingled firmness and respect, the 
^ modest sovereign advanced the boast of an excellent gov- 
^ ernment, of which he had been himself a prominent and 
\ principal part. Saint lago could stand the practical argu- 
I ment no longer. He interposed a prompt and vigorous de- 
s^ nial to this final claim, and insisted that it must not be. If 
j Spain, he proceeded earnestly to maintain, in addition to 
I all her other blessings should posses the crowning, one of 
I good government, happily administered, the angels would 
\ exchange for it their present residence, and Paradise would 
I be deserted by its inhabitants. 

:; They who take an interest in the charming scenes which 
\ surround us, and all who witness the advantages that are 
:j bestowed upon them, will cheerfnllyjoin me in the fervent 
s' aspiration that cloudless skies may continue to shine, and 
) that the virtues of a smiling land may not cease to be de- 
\ veloped without restraint, even at the hazard o||,i^npeopling 
> Paradise, 



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